


never forget these images

by itsahockeyplay



Category: Good Omens (TV)
Genre: Angst, M/M, Pre-Apocalypse, Presumed Unrequited Love, me tryna be poëtìc and instead being melodramatìque, the unpresumption don't happen in this fic folks
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-24
Updated: 2019-06-24
Packaged: 2020-05-18 19:35:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,014
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19341202
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/itsahockeyplay/pseuds/itsahockeyplay
Summary: It was settled, then, finally, bone-deep and permanent in a way very few things in Crowley's life were: he loved Aziraphale with an intensity rivaled, maybe, only by God's intense desire to fuck everyone over.





	never forget these images

**Author's Note:**

  * For [pastagguk](https://archiveofourown.org/users/pastagguk/gifts).



> i was feelin some type of way folks n started thinking about how crowley felt n his insecurities n his desire to Do Good But Never Admit It and just kinda went AHHHHHHHHH and wrote this out tbh 
> 
> title from "almost lovers" and gifted to meg bc BIG FOCKIN THANK U TO HER for encouraging n cheerleading ur the light of my LIFE BB !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

It still scared him, sometimes. 

When Crowley had first realized how  _ much  _ he'd sacrifice — everything, anyone; himself included — for Aziraphale, it had been met with vicious, violent denial because it couldn't be possible. The thought of — of  _ caring  _ that much, of being so willing to give everything up, went against everything Crowley believed, everything he  _ was _ . Everything inside of him had been kicked up, set ablaze, torn apart, and the plan had been to never speak to Aziraphale ever again, because if Crowley could just avoid him, it would go away. 

So for a year, then another, then another, then another, Crowley did just that, until Aziraphale bumped into him — which was wont to happen; they were  _ adversaries _ , for fuck's sake — and it hit him at once: how much he'd  _ missed  _ Aziraphale, and Aziraphale's excited, "Crowley!" had him grinning in response, drawling out, "Missed me, angel?" 

It was settled, then, finally, bone-deep and permanent in a way very few things in Crowley's life were: he loved Aziraphale with an intensity rivaled, maybe, only by God's intense desire to fuck everyone over. 

Dealing with fear was his  _ thing _ , though; being a demon meant constantly living with fear thrumming under your skin, fear about fucking up, getting fucked up. Always moving, anxiety and adrenaline twined into his very being, uncertainty about his future always on the forefront of his mind. 

Hell barely gave out first chances, let alone second ones, and Crowley always had to be careful about how he framed his misdeeds in a way that made them seem much, much worse than they were, because hell wouldn't take too kindly to being led around if they found out. 

What scared him about  _ this  _ was how none of that anxiety and adrenaline was there. He knew, with a certainty he had no justification for, Aziraphale would never,  _ never  _ leave him, not after everything they'd been through. 

Aziraphale would never leave him, but Crowley — Crowley was  _ devoted  _ to Aziraphale, in a way he knew couldn't ask Aziraphale to return.

That didn't stop him from asking, anyway. To ask, again and again and again — to bare himself, again and again and again, only to constantly be turned away, told it wasn't  _ real _ , told it wasn't possible, well. 

It's what Crowley deserved, really, for being stupid enough to keep trying. The problem was — the problem was, he didn't know how to  _ stop _ . 

Didn't know how to stop asking Aziraphale to choose  _ him _ , in the way Crowley always chose Aziraphale, and didn't know how to stop feeling the ache every single time Aziraphale refused to say it because Crowley knew, Crowley had  _ always  _ known — he would never be picked. 

He was a demon. That wasn't how this worked. Demons didn't get to be loved, or cherished, or desired, or  _ wanted _ , really. The entire point of being a demon was being unlovable and cast out. 

An angel, then — well, no matter how much of a bastard Aziraphale was deep down, he was still an angel where it counted, and it counted here. Now. 

"...and, Crowley?" 

Snapping out of his — rather ill-advised, but ill-advised was his forte — reverie, Crowley hummed. "I'm listening, angel." 

With a huff that was perhaps well-deserved, Aziraphale muttered  something under his breath — but not really — about  _ demons  _ and  _ short attention spans  _ that Crowley pretended didn't dig in and latch itself inside of him, grinning in response, and Aziraphale said, "Well, as I was  _ saying _ , we should really eat at the new restaurant that's opened up on Oxford. I've heard  _ very  _ good things, and Thai Vietnamese fusion? Well, I, for one, can't wait to see where that goes." 

"Only if you make reservations," Crowley said, pretending to pay attention to the way the champagne swirled in his glass, all bubbly and shimmery. It was a fancy five star restaurant Aziraphale had wanted to try — nevermind the fact he'd never  _ said  _ that aloud; Crowley had made reservations anyway, and it had been worth it to see the way Aziraphale's face had lit up when Crowley had explained where they were going — and in Crowley's opinion, hadn't been worth the money, but money wasn't an issue when you could miracle it out of anywhere and money certainly wasn't an issue when it meant Aziraphale sated and content, looking at Crowley with soft eyes. Eyes that said  _ you did good _ , when nothing else Crowley did was, and he was thankful Aziraphale knew better than to say anything like that aloud. 

Soft eyes, soft smile, soft laughter — it was enough to get Crowley through pretty much anything, if he were being honest, and he tried to avoid being that as much as possible.

"Fine," Aziraphale said. "I'll make reservations if you promise to show. Promise not to  _ wriggle  _ out of it." 

And Aziraphale said it with a grin — always said it with a grin, well-meaning, never intending to do harm — and Crowley  _ knew  _ it wasn't what he meant, but all Crowley heard was  _ demon demon you're a demon _ . "Promise. Though you can't really hold my side to those kinds of things," he said with a grin, eyes hidden behind the sunglasses he pushed up his nose even though they hadn't slipped down. They never did. What was the point of being a supernatural, celestial being if you couldn't keep your glasses where they were meant to be? 

As expected, Aziraphale laughed — softly, as everything he did was — and Crowley preened at knowing  _ he'd  _ done that. "Well, I can't disagree with that. Try, though, will you, dearest?" 

"Always," Crowley drawled, and he meant the word with everything inside of him. He'd try, always, forever — he  _ did  _ try, always, forever. 

He just wasn't very successful. 

"I'll hold you to it," Aziraphale said, wagging a finger at him. 

"I'm counting on it," Crowley said. 

Demons didn't  _ have  _ hearts, which is why it was impossible Crowley was suffering from something as trivial as a  _ broken  _ one, but if Crowley had to guess what that felt like — if he had to describe it, well. It might come pretty fucking close to what he was feeling right now. 

**Author's Note:**

> listen we all know aziraphale loves crowley but crowley doesn't At This Time and he :(((((((( sad snake man 
> 
> haven't read the book in Forever so tbh just goin off the tv show (that i've watched ,,,, three times now) but !!!!!! hope y'all liked it n bls comment ,,,,, kudos ,,,,, i Crave Validation 
> 
> o n critique welcomed !!!!! i'm on [tunglr dot com](https://itsahockeyplay.tumblr.com/) too if anyone's interested. ANYWAY hope u have a good day <33333333333333


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